


The Forest of Dreams

by Isis



Category: Eagle of the Ninth - Rosemary Sutcliff, The Eagle | Eagle of the Ninth (2011)
Genre: First Time, M/M, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-11
Updated: 2012-04-11
Packaged: 2017-11-03 12:09:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/381195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isis/pseuds/Isis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Come on, then!" Marcus called over his shoulder, and then he was gone, swallowed up by the trees.  Esca misliked this sudden whim; it was not like Marcus to be reckless.  But he followed, for he could not abandon him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Forest of Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> For a prompt from the_eagle_kink. More details at the end. Thanks to Signe for genuine British beta.

"Ho, Canna," soothed Esca. Under him, his horse skittered nervously, small clumps of dirt flying up from her hooves. They'd been in pursuit of a small herd of roe deer when she had abruptly stopped and reared up; he'd nearly been thrown.

"What's the matter?" said Marcus as he caught up to Esca and reined in his own horse. Vatia's presence seemed to calm Canna, and she stopped her anxious prancing. "Where did they go?"

"There, into the forest. For some reason Canna wouldn't follow." They had been travelling through open pastures and sparse woodlands of scrub oak and hazel, but just past the briar-edged meadow where they had stopped, the trees grew more closely. A clear pathway led between two large oak trees which stood as though sentinels, guarding the darker forest beyond. "I was not quite close enough to strike." He tried to keep the frustration out of his voice. It was early yet, the sun still high in the sky above them; surely there was more game to be found.

"Perhaps we've not yet lost them," said Marcus, and he gave Vatia a gentle kick, but she too took only a few steps toward the woods ahead before turning her head and stamping. "What do you smell, old girl, hmm?" He ran a hand down her mane, bending forward, talking softly close to her ear. Esca had to strain to hear. "Are there boar? Wolves?"

"If there were such beasts in the woods, then would not the deer be afraid as well?"

"They haven't the sense of our horses, I suppose. Or perhaps they have more sense, and so are not frightened by the silly tales that the Atrebates tell their children."

A chill went down Esca's spine despite the warmth of the day. "What silly tales?"

Marcus waved a hand carelessly toward the forest. "Oh, the usual things said to keep the children from straying away from their nurses. The Forest of Sleep. Or Shadow, something like –"

"The Forest of Dreams," said Esca. He shivered involuntarily. No wonder the horses wouldn't follow the path.

"Yes, that's it. So you've heard the stories as well?"

"This – this is the Forest of Dreams?"

"It may be one they call by that name. I don't know for certain." Marcus shrugged. "I did not think it was an actual place."

Esca remembered the old woman who had spoken of it, a crone with white hair and filmed-over eyes. He had been in the market, and stopped to hear a man boasting of his hunt. He had followed his quarry into the Forest of Dreams, he had said, and see how he had lived to tell of it! But the crone shook her head and scolded the man for the risks he had run. The gods might have given him luck once, she had warned him, but he could not always count on such favour. Capricious spirits dwelt in the forest. The visions that came in the dreams they sent might be true and they might be false, and many a man had followed the false sendings off a cliff, or into a cave that his companions could not find afterward. The forest-folk did not take every man, but those who returned from the forest were forever changed.

Esca's blood had run cold listening to her high, singsong voice. "I heard such a story. I did not think it was merely a tale to frighten children." 

Marcus frowned. "It is not as though it were sacred to the gods."

"There are things older than even your gods and mine."

"But the gods will win out, yes? So we are protected by them, and need not fear these stories spun by clever tribesmen, who think to scare us." He turned his head towards where the path disappeared into the forest, and it seemed to Esca that his eyes reflected the distance, as though he were looking not just at the forest, but past the horizon. "Besides, the stories are as intriguing as they are frightening. Would it not be worth it to have visions of one's destiny? Of one's desires?"

Esca heard the note of restless yearning in Marcus's voice, and it reminded him of the way that Marcus had spoken of the Eagle, before they had left on their journey to find it and bring it home. The same hunger, the same anticipation. He supposed it was that the space in Marcus that had been filled by that quest was empty again, and he was searching about for something new to fill it. Esca had thought – he had hoped – that maybe it would be he who filled that space. The friendship forged on that journey had grown tighter and stronger, and in time, Esca had hoped, might become even more. It had not happened yet, but still he hoped in his heart that it might.

Marcus gave him a rakish smile and for an instant Esca's heart stopped, captured by its openness and beauty; and then Marcus gave his horse a kick, and bent forward, urging her against her inclination, and she whinnied once and then sprang ahead, along the path, between the oaks, into the forest.

"Marcus!" The name was ripped from his throat; he was not sure he was even breathing.

"Come on, then!" Marcus called over his shoulder, and then he was gone, swallowed up by the trees. 

Esca misliked this sudden whim; it was not like Marcus to be reckless. Darkly he wondered whether the fey influence of the forest had extended tendrils out to capture his heart, to pull him in. Maybe it was only the itch for adventure. For himself, he was happy to have escaped from the Seal People with his skin intact. But he would risk himself again for Marcus; how could he not?

"Come, Canna." The horse stepped reluctantly toward the forest at the touch of his heels and the click of his tongue. At the sentinel oaks she halted again and stretched her neck this way and that as though trying to peer beyond the trees. Certainly it was darker ahead, under the dense canopy of leaves, but the path was clear, dappled in sunlight. It seemed an ordinary forest, one like any other.

And even if it were not, Marcus was in there; so Esca set his heels again, and this time Canna trotted in almost eagerly, her earlier reluctance forgotten. Past the two oaks the trees grew thickly, hazel and rowan and tall graceful trees he could not identify, trunks twined with clinging ivy and soft grey-green moss. The air was cool and held the rich, pleasant scent of good dirt and decaying leaves. After a time he reined Canna to a halt and listened for the sounds of a horse and rider; Marcus could not be too far ahead.

He heard nothing. Not even birdsong.

Gently he urged Canna forward again. The forest was too dense for a horse to travel anywhere but along the path. Even the path was not very wide, and it narrowed as it led deeper into the forest. On either side the trees seemed to bend toward him as he approached. Perhaps it was the wind, he thought uneasily, although there was no rustle of leaves as one might expect. Perhaps it was only an illusion formed by the patchy sunlight.

It was as these thoughts went through his mind that he began to hear the rustle of leaves for the first time, and to see the distinct sway of branches in the wind. Almost as if the forest, sensing his discomfort, had moved to reassure him; but it was not reassuring. Canna, too, balked, and she sidled to the right and tossed her head.

He felt the gentle touch of a hand on his arm. "There you are," said Marcus. "I was looking for you."

"I was looking for you! It worried me when you rode off ahead of me." He turned his head; Marcus was next to him, his gaze earnest and concerned.

"I know." Marcus's hand slid up to Esca's shoulder, a warm tingle in its wake. "I have lost the roe deer, I am afraid, but it is early yet. We should take some rest in the shade here, and then look for more game." 

He squeezed Esca's shoulder and smiled, a warm and intimate smile; then he bent his head toward Esca's neck and kissed it.

Oh. _Oh._

"Marcus," he said uncertainly. 

"Don't you want me? I know you want me," said Marcus, his voice low and persuasive.

He wanted him, yes; Esca could not deny it. His cock hardened, his senses tingled. He shifted in his saddle. "I – well, of course, yes –" 

And then Canna shied at something, bucking under him and tearing his arm from Marcus's grasp; and it wasn't Marcus at all but a vine, thick and brown and twisted with tiny shoots and tendrils, twining along his arm, swaying in the breeze. The noise of frantic hoofbeats reached him then, and he turned his head to see Vatia – her passage must have been the thing that had startled Canna – running riderless back down the path, back toward the edge of the forest.

The impulse was strong to turn his own horse to follow her, to gallop out of this dangerous place. But Marcus must be somewhere ahead, and Esca could not abandon him.

From the corner of his eye he saw the vine questing toward him again, and he turned toward it and drew his knife. "Do not try that again," he said; he felt faintly foolish, speaking to the trees and vines, and his voice sounded thin and hollow in the unearthly silence of the forest. But the vine withdrew.

He spoke softly to Canna, but she would not move. He slid from her back and took her reins in hand like a lead and tried to coax her to follow him. He dared not tie her to a tree that might not be what it seemed. She whinnied nervously and turned her head back toward the place from which they had come, and finally he dropped her reins and let her follow Vatia. 

It seemed an eternity that he walked through the forest, the only noise his footsteps and his own blood pumping through his veins. Then, at the edge of his hearing, came a voice. Words. His name.

"Esca."

It was a groan, a whisper borne to him on the fey wind. 

"Oh, _Esca_ …please…"

It was the voice of Marcus, and he hurried toward it.

He followed the path as it curved around a stand of trees. Suddenly he was in a small clearing, no more than the distance a man could walk with ten long paces. The willow scrub and brambles were thick under the trees, forming a wall even denser than the sides of the path had been. Dappled light fell on the gorse and short grass and a scattering of red campion. And on Marcus. 

Marcus was suspended between two trees, his arms outflung and wrapped with green and brown vines, one hand grasping a branch that extended almost like an arm, the other clenched in a tight fist. His tunic was torn across one shoulder, exposing part of his chest, and his hunting-spear was on the ground behind and below him. His feet did not quite touch the ground, and his undone braccae hung from one leg in a puddle of cloth, leaving his legs almost entirely bare save for where the vines twined about them in an undulating latticework, spiralling up and down, twining slowly up and between his thighs, curling around his thickly erect cock.

His eyes were open wide, but he did not seem to see Esca. Or rather, he saw some vision of Esca, some apparition created by the strange trees and the vines and the breath of unnatural wind, as Esca had thought he had seen Marcus earlier touching his arm, for it was to this vision he spoke. "So good, Esca. So good…." A vine slid from around his arm to delicately brush his face, and he turned toward it with a wordless moan of delight, his lips opening as the tendrils slipped across them.

"Marcus," said Esca hoarsely. Marcus did not seem to hear him. His head tilted back and he moaned again.

Against his will Esca felt himself growing hard. How could he not, at the sight of Marcus with his limbs spread wide amongst the trees and vines, all but naked, moaning Esca's name? One thick vine prodded between Marcus's splayed thighs, then slid up and in, disappearing from Esca's fascinated, horrified gaze.

"Yes," murmured Marcus, and Esca felt his own cock give a jerk in response. 

A thick brown vine unwound itself from one of the trees beside Esca and slithered along the ground towards him; the motion caught his eye and brought him back to himself with a start. His hand went to the hilt of his knife where it hung from his belt, and the vine retreated back to its tree.

"Let him go," he said aloud. His words seemed to be absorbed by the brushy growth that grew beneath the trees, deadened and flattened. Nothing happened. The vines continued to spiral across Marcus's body. A droplet of liquid appeared at the tip of Marcus's cock, and whip-quick one of the vines moved to dab delicately at it until it was gone. 

Esca began to pull out his knife, then changed his mind and instead unfastened the hunting-spear from his back. He held it before him, point out. "Let him go," he repeated.

"Why should we?" said an amused voice from somewhere behind him, and he whirled. A creature stood lounging against one of the trees, one of the forest-folk, he realised. It was small and slender, with long hair the colour of autumn leaves and a sharp-featured face. It might have been male or female; it was impossible to tell. As he watched, others slipped out from between the trees to regard him with impassive eyes. There was a strong and sudden scent of earth in his nostrils. A chill slid between his shoulders to pool in his belly.

"He has trespassed here. As have you," said another of the creatures.

"You owe us a guest-gift," said a third, and the others took up the call: "A gift! A guest-gift! We demand you give what you owe us!"

Slowly Esca put away his spear; it would be no use against such as the forest-folk. It was their right to demand recompense, and he dreaded what they might ask. They had taken Marcus; if they had chosen him as payment there was nothing he could do other than offer his own life in exchange. 

And if he must, he would make that offer. He made a silent prayer to Lugh that it not come to that, and turned to the first creature who had spoken. "I give you my apology for our inadvertent trespass. I swear we did not mean to offend. Would you have me bring you a sacrifice? Shall I spill wine for you?"

The forest-folk laughed, a high, silvery sound like the tinkling of bells. "He will spill our gift in a moment, and then you both may go."

As if in punctuation, Marcus gasped, and Esca turned back to him, alarmed. He was straining at his bonds, writhing against the vines which thrust into his parted lips and between his parted legs, thrusting into the tendrils wrapped around his cock.

That was what they wanted, then. And Esca could not deny that he wanted it too; this was a Marcus he had never seen, wanton, undone. But a man's seed was a part of him, and it was in his mind that it might be a dangerous gift that could be used against the giver. And Marcus did not know what it was that he did. He thought those were Esca's arms around him, Esca's tongue against his neck, Esca's cock buried deep in his body. 

"He is not willing," Esca blurted. 

"Oh, he is willing enough!" Another titter of silvery laughter.

"I mean to say that he is not knowingly giving it," he said, and he took a deep breath, to give himself courage. "Take it from me instead. I will give you my seed, if that is what you want."

At his words the laughter abruptly ceased, and the forest-folk turned as one to him, their eyes narrowing, greed written on their sharp features. "You would give it willingly?" one said. It took a few steps toward him, and he fought down the urge to run.

"If you release him and take nothing from him. And you let us go unharmed back into the world from which we came. Into the time from which we came," he added quickly, for he had heard the stories of those who wandered into the otherworld and returned a hundred or a thousand years hence. 

"Give us your gift. Then you shall have his from him, and then you may go," said the creature. "And as you give willingly, we shall give you a gift as well, though you did not ask."

As suddenly as they had come the forest-folk vanished, but Esca knew they were still there, amongst the trees – perhaps somehow in the trees, peering out from the mossy bark and branches – and watching him. 

"No, don't stop," murmured Marcus; the vines still held him fast, still twined around his legs and between them, but the leafy vine that had wrapped his cock had released its hold and was now snaking across the grass toward Esca. It swayed in the fey breeze before him, as though beckoning him to come forward.

He took a step toward Marcus and the vine slithered toward him, halting him where he stood. I have made the agreement, he thought grimly, and he untied the drawstring of his braccae and let them fall open. The vine rose up before him, thick and green-brown; green leaves and tendrils delicately bent toward his cock but stopped short of touching him. It was waiting. They were waiting. He tried not to shudder. 

Marcus sighed. "Esca, _please_." His stiff cock thrust into the empty air and his hips shifted restlessly from side to side. The vine buried between his legs flexed and rippled, and he twisted against it as though trying to push it deeper still. 

It was easier when Esca looked at Marcus, beautiful in his desire, instead of at the vine before him. He curled his hand around his cock and looked at Marcus, at the way his hand gripped the branch above his head, at the way his thighs parted for the questing, thrusting vines. He stroked himself and imagined it was Marcus's hand touching him, Marcus's breath gusting hot in his ear, Marcus's body clenching around his cock instead of around the greedy vine that disappeared between his legs. 

His own hand was as rough and calloused as Marcus's hand no doubt would be. The strange breeze tickled his skin like kisses and brought the sharp scent of their mingled arousal to his nostrils, underlain with the earthy smell of the forest. When he groaned he heard Marcus groan as if in answer. 

"I would give you this," Esca murmured – though he knew that Marcus was beyond hearing what he said, that he heard only what the trees whispered into his ears – "I would give you all this, everything you desire, everything for you."

"Esca," Marcus breathed, and Esca broke, gasping and shuddering as his release overtook him. The vine before him twisted in the air, catching his seed in its strangely cupped leaves, brushing the tip of his cock with soft tendrils. Not a drop hit the ground. There was a sudden odd wrenching in Esca's heart, as though fey hands had reached into his chest to cradle it there, and a voice that seemed to come from the trees around him hummed in his ears: "We thank you for your gift, Esca son of Cunoval."

And then the odd feeling was gone, and the forest was silent, and the vine before him slithered away, back into the forest; and in the vines that still bound him Marcus writhed helplessly, his cock flushed dark red, desperate with need. "Please," he gasped, and Esca ran to him. He reached out his hands and then thought better of it. The vines could still take what was spilled on their land. 

Instead Esca curved his hands around Marcus's hips and took his cock into his mouth. It was not something he had done before to any man, but he had made payment with his body for their trespass; and so this was a payment for him. With a cry, Marcus flooded his mouth, and carefully Esca swallowed the bitter draught. Green tendrils curved hopefully toward him but he would not allow them a single drop. 

When Marcus was limp in his mouth and in his arms, he felt the vines slip away from Marcus's body, uncurling and untwining, withdrawing back into the trees from which they hung. Esca shifted as he slowly took the full weight of Marcus onto his shoulders. The sound of Marcus's breathing was deep and regular, like a man asleep, and he lay slumped across Esca's shoulder very much like a sack of grain. Regretfully Esca looked at Marcus's hunting-spear where it lay on the ground, but he did not think he could lift it while he held Marcus, and he was loath to set him down; and as he thought this a small vine slithered through the leaf-mold and duff, then curled around the spear and lifted it from the ground, holding it up to him to grasp.

He could not hold back a short bark of amused laughter as he took the spear, wondering if this were the gift the creature had mentioned. A fey voice sounded in his head, telling him _no, no, you shall know it anon_ , and he shivered; would he hear these voices forever, now? But to that the voice made no reply, and so he turned from the strange clearing and took the forest path back out into the open world.

Marcus was a heavy burden, but Esca was strong, and the spear made a good walking-stick. As well, the way seemed shorter than it had been when he had entered the forest. The sun seemed to brighten along the rowan-trunks and the small mossy rocks that lined the path, and the gentle breeze ruffled the leaves in a way that seemed wholly natural. When he stepped out between the two oaks, he saw Vatia and Canna grazing peacefully a short distance away. It was as though nothing had changed; nothing had happened.

But things _had_ happened, thought Esca uneasily. With care he set Marcus down onto the grass and tugged his tunic down to cover the tops of his bare thighs. His braccae must have fallen in the forest, and there they would have to stay; Esca would not go back into that place, not for anything. Marcus curled and shifted as though in purely ordinary sleep. His eyes were closed, and his breath came evenly, snorting through his nostrils. Esca smoothed back his sweat-dampened hair and regarded his sleeping friend with an unsettled feeling that sprung from a place in his heart he could not name.

What would they say to each other, when Marcus awoke? Would Marcus feel shame for what had happened in the forest, that he had begged the vision of Esca for his hands, his mouth, his cock? Esca swallowed; of a sudden he felt desperately parched with a thirst that ran down into his bones. The taste of Marcus was still on his tongue. He went to the horses and untied the skin of water that hung from Canna's saddle; it tasted cool and sweet, in that moment better than wine.

"Esca?"

He turned. Marcus was blinking the sleep from his eyes. "Have I been asleep long?"

"No," managed Esca. 

"I had the oddest dream," said Marcus. He pulled himself to a sitting position and wrapped his arms around his knees. 

A dream. Esca exhaled sharply. Marcus thought it had been a dream. "Did you."

"I was in the forest. There were these strange trees, and…" He trailed off, then shook his head. "No, I can't remember." He looked down at his arms, clasped around his bare legs, and frowned. "Was I not wearing braccae?"

"You were," Esca admitted.

"What happened to them, then?" Marcus shifted his hips and winced. "Mithras, but I am sore! Did Vatia throw me?"

Slowly Esca walked back to where Marcus sat, and knelt beside him. How could he tell him? How could he not? "Marcus," he began.

Marcus looked up at him, his eyes soft and open. "I dreamed of you, I think."

It was a simple thing to do; Esca leaned forward and kissed Marcus, pressing him back to the ground, and Marcus's arms came around him and held him close for a long, quiet moment.

When they drew back from each other, Marcus lifted his fingers and touched Esca's face. "We are not dreaming now, are we?"

"No," said Esca. He found he could not meet Marcus's eyes. "But it was no dream. We rode into the forest and I saw you…." He stopped. What had he seen? He remembered Marcus touching him on the shoulder and kissing his neck. He remembered green and brown vines, with curving tendrils and oddly cupped leaves, swaying in a breeze that came from nowhere. The sound of Marcus moaning, murmuring his name. The weight of Marcus's cock in his mouth. Had these things truly happened?

His memories seemed to be only fragments now, slipping from his mind, darting away from him like small fish leaping in a mountain stream. They _had_ been in the forest…hadn't they? 

"I thought we were in the forest," he finally said. "But I can no longer remember."

Marcus nodded. "There is a quality to dreams that makes one think one is awake while one dreams; but when one truly wakes, the dream dissolves into mist." Then he smiled, and pulled Esca to him again. "If this is what the Forest of Dreams has brought us, I am glad of it."

"I as well," said Esca, sliding his hands under Marcus's tunic, feeling his warmth and solidity against his fingers. He bent to taste Marcus's lips again. Dreams were smoke and shadow and could not be grasped; Marcus was real and here with him in this meadow, in the bright sharp light of late afternoon that seemed to waken all his senses. He smelled the sweet fragrances of the briar roses growing near the edge of the forest, and the long grass beneath them; he heard birdsong above them, and the horses snorting at the far edge of the field; and for a moment, strangely, he thought that perhaps he heard the silvery tinkle of bells.

**Author's Note:**

> For a prompt from the_eagle_kink: "Uptight virginal Marcus has heard tales of the forbidden forest and one day curiosity gets the best of him and he wanders in. When he's deep in the forest he meets a touchy feely sentient plant and gets fucked by its tentacles. Bonus points if Esca finds Marcus in the forest, and he either watches or bats the tentacles away and fucks Marcus himself."
> 
> Um, okay, maybe not quite to the letter of the prompt, but I hope I have satisfied.


End file.
